


Happy Birthday, Dr. Crowley

by shaniacbergara



Series: Coffee, Wine, and Textbooks-Verse [7]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Fluff, Fluff, M/M, This is literally all fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:07:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22479925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shaniacbergara/pseuds/shaniacbergara
Summary: HBD Crowley but ALSO HBD to our fandom's Joseph, for whom this is written! May your day and your year be filled with ridiculous socks, good food, and cake of all kinds, and may you be celebrated for being the fantastic person you are!
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Coffee, Wine, and Textbooks-Verse [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1490870
Comments: 10
Kudos: 133





	Happy Birthday, Dr. Crowley

**Author's Note:**

  * For [UlsPi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/UlsPi/gifts).



Crowley awoke to hear Aziraphale crooning at him. He opened one eye, thoroughly put out by this intrusion onto his sleep, and saw that his fiance had set the mugs of coffee and tea down on his bedside table, and was holding a cupcake that was on fire. 

“Happy biiiiiiiirthday, dear Anthony, happy birthday to you.” Aziraphale’s singing voice, all sultry and low as it was, was delightful to hear, but that didn’t stop Crowley’s confusion.  
“‘S not my birthday, angel.” He insisted, rolling over. He heard Aziraphale scoff above him. 

“It most certainly is.” He said, huffily, grasping Crowley’s shoulder and rolling him onto his back. “Now blow this out before it drips!” 

“‘S not. Mine’s the first of December.” He informed him, quite pleased with himself. He begrudgingly opened both of his eyes when he heard his angel chuckle. “What?!” 

“...it is the first of December, my love.” Aziraphale said, before laughing again. Crowley sat up.

“No, it’s not! Yesterday was the thirtieth of November.” Aziraphale nodded, ever so patiently.

“Yes, yes it was.” He agreed, holding out the cupcake. Crowley blew out the candle absentmindedly, while Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s arm and put the cupcake directly into his hand.

“So today must be the thirty-first of November.” Crowley reasoned. Aziraphale waited, and waited just a bit more. It didn’t take long for Crowley to realize. “Shit, I’ve done it again, haven’t I?” Aziraphale giggled, something Crowley loved to hear, but found rather unfair in this particular instance.

“Yes, it would seem so.”

“I don’t know how, but I’m going to blame the fact that some only some months have 31 days on the Americans.” He grumbled, taking the candle out of the cupcake and sucking the frosting off the end. Aziraphale kissed his cheek. 

“Probably for the best.” He reasoned, before sitting back against his cushions. “Happy birthday, my darling boy.” Crowley blushed, felt it creep up the back of his neck and across his cheeks, as it did whenever Aziraphale complimented him. 

“Thank you, angel.” Crowley said, taking a bite of his cupcake before passing it over to Aziraphale.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly-” Aziraphale attempted to protest, but Crowley just looked at him, his eyebrows raised. 

In the end, they both got their way. Aziraphale ate a birthday cupcake, while Crowley got to gaze at Aziraphale as he ate a cupcake. It was in both of their best interests, when all was said and done. 

Crowley got dressed quickly, while Aziraphale was brushing his teeth, peeling his tight black jeans over his legs, and buttoning up his shirt. At the last moment, and after much reflection, he crossed over to Aziraphale’s dresser, and selected a warm and cozy looking cardigan. Beige, a color Crowley is certain he’d never worn before. He shrugged it on, and grinned a bit as the arms fell over his hands. He brought his sweater paws up to his face and inhaled, reveling in that smoky cologne and books and tea and coffee smell that was so distinctly Aziraphale. He was interrupted by a choked noise behind him, and he turned. Aziraphale was staring, open mouthed at him.

“I’m not sure whether to gush over how adorable you look or strip you down and ravish you right here.” Aziraphale confessed, looking Crowley up and down. Crowley’s cheeks burned again, and he smirked.

“Time and a place for both, I suppose.” He ran a hand through his hair, making it already messier than it already was. Aziraphale crossed over to him, leaned up on tip-toe, and kissed him lightly. 

“You’re quite right.” Crowley paused, about to rummage around in his sock drawer for a decently silly pair of socks, when Aziraphale stopped him. “Wait!” He cried before, turning to retrieve something from the drawer of his bedside table. He emerged with a gift wrapped in brightly colored paper. “Here!”

“Angel!” Crowley groaned, tilting his head back. “C’mon, you shouldn’t have gotten me anything.”

“Well, this is a very small thing.” Aziraphale insisted, pressing the gift into his hands. 

Crowley tore into the wrapping paper, placing it on top of his dresser. The gift, as it turned out, was a truly hideous pair of socks. They were neon pink, and covered with cartoon birthday cakes and balloons. They were hideous, horrid, violently ugly. Crowley loved them. He kissed Aziraphale deeply, letting it get just on the line of too filthy for so early in the morning, before pausing for breath.

“If this is your reaction to a gift, I should have gotten you many more.” Aziraphale pointed out, a bit breathless. 

“Plenty more where that came from, angel.” Crowley promised.

They taught, that day. Somehow it had gotten out that today was Dr. Crowley’s birthday, as all of his classes brought various coffees and baked goods. Crowley thought he had a pretty good inclination as to who, exactly, had caused this breach of information, but was too delighted by the idea of Aziraphale trying to subtly let it slip to his student to be too worried about it. After all, he loved his students, and to be fair, it was rather nice to be celebrated. Though, he did blush over being thoroughly called out for wearing someone else's cardigan, though he didn't know what he'd expected.

When they returned home, Crowley watched Aziraphale try, and fail, to cook dinner, stepping in only once Aziraphale’s hair looked nearly as messy as Crowley’s. He let Aziraphale croon to him over yet another cupcake, this one destined to be split in half and shared. 

When he paused over the candle, he didn’t make a wish, he didn’t need to. He just offered up a thought of thanks, because he’d somehow lucked into everything he’d ever wanted, and he couldn’t be happier.


End file.
